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GRAVEYARD ✨
POPULATION: GHOST TOWN
You die - and then you wake up.
For a second, it feels as though you can't breathe, and then your head breaks the surface. You crawl out of a pool of blood and into a large, crystalline room. Moving images play across the crystal walls, and if you watch close enough, you'll realize that you're seeing the land of the living; a familiar space station with familiar faces. You can watch these images for as long as you'd like - there are several very large benches (as in, you have to climb them to sit on them) around the room for you to rest on while you do.
Regardless of how you died, it seems as though you're not quite gone completely. You're in one piece, at least. That's good news. However, your surroundings are not exactly what you remember.
When you exit the first room, a bleak, empty city sprawls out ahead of you.
The city itself is large. The framework of it seems to tower higher and higher than you can see, up into the black opal sky that shivers and curls every so often. A river entirely made of blood runs through the city, winding around buildings and ending at the crystal room. The most noticeable thing about the buildings themselves is the fact that thorny vines made of pure white steel dig into the walls and floor, cracking the foundations.
The residential building is worn down and old. It's two floors, and has a few small studio apartments built for one or two people to live in. The beds are extremely uncomfortable. It has a communal area downstairs, but the TV is broken, and the couches are torn apart. Sometimes, this building feels obscenely hot in temperature, and smells like rotten eggs.
The grocery store is your typical convenience store. There's a large selection of food in this area, but it all tastes the same - like chalk. On top of this, every so often there will be bloodstains on the walls, the floor, and the displays. They change in size and location, each time you enter the store.
The clothing store is thrifty in nature. All the clothes here are uncomfortable and scratchy, and don't fit quite right. While you're here, time feels... weird. Distorted, almost dreamy. As you're picking out clothes and trying them on (no money needed, just take what you want), you swear you can hear a gunshot in the distance.
Enjoy your time in this city, and remember...your story isn't quite over yet.
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[looking down at kaz lying in a pool of blood and complaining]
Observation: It does seem that things may work differently in this area. Given we appeared here following our sustaining lethal damage, I was curious if the meatbag would be transported to a new location or remain here in pain.
no subject
Why did you... sustain lethal damage?
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Statement: I of course did not need such an amount of time to dispatch with a meatbag—even one as supposedly experienced as Shi Qingxuan—in hand-to-hand combat, but given my difficulties in engaging in violence of any sort this past week I believe I can be forgiven enjoying myself over the full time.
[it's at this point that his cheerful voice takes on an annoyed and venomous edge, the shift only serving to increase the strange effect of its tinny, radio-like quality]
Qualification: However, although I had entirely succeeded in the requested termination of the meatbag's life in accordance with the rules—and was simply preparing to exit the room to engage in further violence—the door did not open and instead I was suddenly and rather rudely crushed by a rapid increase in atmospheric pressure.
[plenty of time for casual narrative exposition as kaz lays bleeding]
no subject
What the fuck!
Whoever made you is a real piece of shit. Were you going to--[he gurgles, coughing blood on to his hand, which he wipes on the couch]--seriously try and kill everyone?
no subject
[still probably under 15 minutes, so still a big ol' plasma hole through the chest there--HK looks at it with some fascination]
Observation: It must be quite painful to continue speaking. Perhaps you should limit the amount you are doing. [again, nothing but helpful tone here!]
no subject
deadpanning at him at this point, which is appropriate because he's dead.
but he folds both hands over his horrible wound, though, sinking completely into his blood-covered sofa cushions—and there's a shuddering sigh of pain before he finally speaks again.]
Let me see if I have this straight: you [he nods tiredly towards grell] died from a tightrope one versus one, and you [he just levels a look at hk-47] died at the execution.
And I died from that guy... doing whatever to me. Even though I beat him with that toblerone for such a long time... jeez.
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Uhh. Black hair, shovel, mean? He knocked over my grave.
no subject
so in the 15 minutes they're waiting on chest wound results:]
Analysis: That would match the profile of the one designated "Ming Yi." Among his skills is listed "exceptional arm strength" so it was unwise to allow him access to your neck to strangle you.
no subject
The first time he attacked me, I did the same, though... so, maybe I gave him the idea?
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I stayed awake after that weird countdown, which I thought was kind of weird? When I walked outside, he was in the hall, so we decided to go to the kitchen together... and as soon as the coast was clear, he wrapped the wire around my neck and tried to kill me!
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I suppose we'll see next week.
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--Oh my god! Was it symbolic?
[kaz kaan, covered in blood on a couch soaked in his own blood, is thinking deeply about metaphysicality.]
...Nah. He was probably just an asshole.
Anyway, I beat him to death with a toblerone, buried him a bunch more toblerones, and went to bed. But he survived!
no subject
I'm sure next time you'll do more to ensure your target is actually dead.
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We're already dead!
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Observation: It may not have proved the best weapon, but did leave an impressive amount of blood. Perhaps you should have hit him more.
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I even buried him in a tomb of Toblerones!
no subject
Clarification: ...you created a tomb of the Toblerones?
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It was pretty efficient. I really thought he had no chance of getting out, but here's me with egg on my face. Murder is really not my forte.
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Proposal: Should you desire advice, or feedback on your efforts, I seemingly have little else to do.
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Still, I think that if I had any plans to kill someone in the future, I'd just ask you. Who, other than Hollywood, knew robots could be so malicious?
(no subject)
(no subject)